


SandKru

by Androids_in_Metropolis



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Torture, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mommy Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androids_in_Metropolis/pseuds/Androids_in_Metropolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pain is an awful monster that gnaws at your weakness only to feed your strength. </p><p>Murphy knows this. The grounders taught him. <br/>Lexa and Clarke know this. They taught each other. <br/>Lincoln learned from his girlfriend, and Octavia learned from her elders. </p><p>Bellamy learned from Murphy. </p><p>--------------------</p><p>A slightly AU work set during the TV show, based on the episode I am Become Death. In this Octavia is a grounder while Lincoln is Bellamy's younger brother. Many other little things have been changed, so just keep an eye out for them. ON a side note, I am sorry I suck at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

A shot was fired into the dark forest before Octavia could tell them to cease fire. It could be Lincoln out there, or Lexa, or Indra. It could be anyone, and as the sky people had learned the hard way with Anya, you can’t just shoot into the dark and assume it’s an enemy. 

“Don’t shoot!” Octavia hissed, placing a firm grip on the gun man’s forearm and yanking his wrist away from the trigger. “Did you even see what you were shooting out? You’re just wasting bullets,” she continued, her tone leaving nothing to be questioned. The boy who had shot was quaking in his tattered boots as he apologized, assenting that he had been wrong to shoot. “Good,” Octavia said, starting towards the closed gates of Camp Delinquent and throwing them open. “Now we go see what you shot?” 

The delinquents grabbed torches and followed ‘commander’ Octavia, who had long since earned their respect. Though she was a grounder she had chosen them over her own people. She had made an impression, to say the least, and any misgiving they had about trusting a grounder had long since dissipated. She had been the first to befriend them, though her tribe soon followed suit, opting to join forces again the mountain men which were still at large. The flames of their torches flickered, sending shadows dancing across the forest floor as the small troop searched the under brush for whatever had been making the noise pre-empting the shooting. 

Octavia’s heart skipped a beat as she saw a body in the under brush up ahead. For a moment she thought it could be Lincoln...her Lincoln. He wasn’t as experienced in the forest as herself, even though he had a natural talent for grounder ways, already assimilated into the Tree Kru people as one of their own. Bellamy’s little brother was nothing like him, not hard or war like. He was soft and sweet and too naive to be in the forest by himself at night...looking over the body she was relieved to find that it was, in fact, not Lincoln, but someone of a similar height in the same kind of Sky people clothing. It wasn’t someone she recognized though…

“It’s Murphy,” supplied the boy, Sam, who had fired the seemingly off-mark shot. “We banished him when we landed...he was too secretive. He tried to kill someone. He wouldn’t talk to us...Bellamy will have him shot if we bring him back to camp now,” Sam explained excitedly, his young face lit up with the adrenaline of the moment; It wasn’t everyday you found an exiled criminal outside your camp. 

“Well, he won’t be shot,” Octavia said blankly, “You made sure of that. Help me out,” she instructed, turning him onto his side so she could asses the damage. Murphy’s face was covered in blood, his brows brought together in pain. His eyes were open, but unseeing. He had so many cuts and gashes he hardly has skin above one eye, and his lip was busted in a thoroughly brutal manner. Letting her eyes wander down she noted that his shirt was intact, but had so many holes and gashes that it might as well have not been. It was grounder work, that’s for sure...maybe sandkru?

“Get him into the camp,” she ordered, her eyes meeting Sam’s abashed ones. Her comment on the shot seemed to have found it’s mark and he complied immediately, leading an effort to move the immobile boy from the ground. Octavia noted that he passed out with pain as soon as his limbs left the blood dampened earth. 

Something was coming. Sandkru were known for their torture, and it almost always held a warning for a war to come. Jus drein, jus daun and this was the initial spilling, their answer would be awaited by the eagerly salivating men and women of the Sandkru tribe. She would be surprised if this Murphy child’s heart had been ripped out of his chest by their teeth, but luckily, it hadn’t come to that. 

Turning on her heel she made after the teens dragging Murphy into camp, quickly overtaking them and helping them with their burden. 

Jus drein, jus duan, she thought, leading the bleeding offer into their camp. A trap it might be, but he was just a child, and a hurt one at that. No one left behind. 

\---------------------------

“So you brought him in?” Bellamy hissed, his eyes aiming daggers at Octavia who looked equally upset. Bellamy couldn’t believe that Octavia had betrayed his trust like that. He had given her full authority because she trusted him to do the right thing and that made him trust her more. He was upset that she had used that trust to bring an enemy back to camp. He didn’t stop to think that that ‘enemy’ was one of them, and that he posed no threat. He was one bleeding child against a whole camp of well trained grounders and teenagers with guns. 

“Yes,” Octavia said decisively, her tone biting. “Yes I did. And do you want to know why, Bellamy of The Sky People, or do you just want to...bitch about it?” Her chest rose and fell rapidly, blood pumping quickly through her veins. Sometimes Sky People ways could be infuriating...if you didn’t want him, why didn’t you just kill him? It was too late now to dwell on whether or not Murphy should live. It Bellamy didn’t listen the kid would be dead by morning anyway, and she had more important things to discuss. 

Bellamy blinked in surprise. Octavia had never sworn before, at least, not in English. He could see Lincoln laughing out of the corner of his eye, and even Lexa and Clarke had cracked smiles at the forcefulness Octavia had displayed. 

“Fine, Octavia,” he growled, “what is so important that you brought our criminal back in?” He sat back, squaring his shoulders and purposefully averting his eyes from Murphy’s hunched figure. He was sitting next to Lincoln, which honestly didn’t surprise Bellamy since the two had been basically inseparable when they had first landed. 

Lincoln probably knew more about Murphy than anyone else at this point, and Bellamy found that he wasn’t as angry as he tried to seem when Lincoln wrapped his arm around Murphy’s shaking shoulders and whispered something into his ear. Lincoln had never forgiven him for Murphy’s banishment, and Bellamy couldn’t find it in him to blame him. 

“Murphy wasn’t sent to us because they just got tired of him,” Octavia began, meeting eyes with Bellamy, though she shifted her gaze to Lexa and Clarke on his right hand side. Lexa would understand, she knew she would. The Commander would understand the gravity of what she was about to say. “They sent him as a message, it is Sandkru’s way.” 

“And what would that message be?” Bellamy asked sounding obstinate though Octavia could tell from the look in his eyes that he was taking the threat seriously. His dark eyes had taken on a steely tone that hadn’t been there when he was ridiculing Murphy. Now he looked like a leader. 

“The message is clear: Stay away from Sandkru,” Octavia said gravely, feeling sorry for Murphy. He had been banished and had likely just wandered into their camp...He was lost. Octavia had learned how and why he was banished from Sam on their way back to camp, and she didn’t agree with it. She made a mental note to talk to Bellamy about keeping Murphy in camp. 

Bellamy bit his lip. If that was the only thing that they wanted they should probably just build a border...Murphy should be kept from wander around though, now that this had come to light. It wouldn’t be safe to have a sky person wandering around the forest lest Sankru think that they are spying or invading them, without knowing that the person is not connected with the camp of the sky people. 

“Should we meet with them to determine a border?” Bellamy asked, turning his attention to Lexa. He was nervous now. He wasn't sure what to do with Murphy if they couldn’t shoot him (Lincoln and quite a few other member of camp wouldn’t let him) and they couldn’t re-banish him (It wasn’t safe if Sandkru thought he was part of their camp, and Clarke wouldn't turn him out when he looked so hurt). 

“No,” Lexa barked, surprising Clarke and Bellamy who were both sitting beside her. “I think that would be a very bad idea. They have started a blood feud, and now we are pledged to either finish their battle or remain silent. Creating a border would be cowardice,” Lexa explained, shaking her head. “If they thought we were afraid of them they would surely attack.” 

“That’s that then. We’ll need a Grounder in every hunting party, and stay inside the camp as much as possible until we have a plan,” Bellamy ordered, effectively bringing the meeting to an end. He nodded towards Murphy, “And Clarke, would you mind providing medical attention? Lexa, would you talk to your people?” 

Clarke nodded, squeezing Lexa’s hand. The next little while would be hard for both of them, probably more so for her than Lexa. The grounders would listen and follow everything and anything that their commander said. She had to deal with Murphy…

“Yes, I will,” Lexa told Bellamy, getting to her feet and exiting the tent after pecking Clarke on the cheek, managing to stealthily whisper ‘good luck’ into her lover’s ear. While she didn’t approve of Clarke’s treatment of the child in front of them, she did understand. it would be hard for Clarke. It would be hard for her. 

\---------------------------------

Clarke stood over Murphy in the medical tent. His shirt was off, his skin, or what was left of it, displayed. He was filled with cuts and holes. Bits of him were missing, and she was shocked he had lived long enough for the blood to clot. She shuddered to think what more was left for her to see underneath his pants and his face was a new story in itself. 

“What did they do to you?” She breathed, holding his hand up to the light to see all ten of his nails had been ripped off from the bass and there was only tattered skin left where the nails should have been. ,

Murphy didn’t reply, instead hunching forward and coughing until blood ran from his lips. His ribs shook and his shoulders hunched so far forward that they touched. Clarke felt a twinge of guilt...she was the one that had banished him. It had seemed merciful beside Bellamy’s first choice; Execution. Now, she wasn’t so sure. 

She grabbed antiseptic and a rag and began the long process of cleaning Murphy from head to toe so she could asses the real damage and see how much of it was just blood moved from one part of him to the other. 

Soon his whimpers were screams (her movements slightly rougher than they needed to be) and they echoed throughout the camp. 

\---------------------------------------

Stepping back she looked over her handy work. Murphy was clean, at least, all his wounds shining with blood and skin. The deeper cuts showed bits of bone and muscle. Each of his nail beds shone, and his face was clean. The gashes were ready to be sewn shut, his hands ready to be bandaged and smaller wounds ready to be burned closed. 

“This is going to hurt,” she warned just before she pushed the sterile (as sterile as possible, that is) needle through his skin, stitching his tattered pieces into a patchwork of humanity. It lived, it breathed, it looked...almost human. 

Soon Clarke stopped warning him as new torture after torture was applied to his failing body as she attempted to bring him back together. Soon he didn’t have the energy to scream anymore, just letting his head fall back as pained whimpers shook his small frame. Clarke wasn’t even sure he was really awake, his eyes displaying a stupor of pain. 

“Finished,” she told him, dropping her things and washing the blood of her shaking hands. Murphy was unresponsive, even as she ran her hands through his grotesquely knotted hair. She should get Lincoln to help her wash it…

\---------------------------

When Murphy came to she found Lincoln, Octavia, and Clarke were gathered around him. Clarke was sitting on a three legged stood by his cot, reading a grounder volume (one of the historic books from before the war...from before grounders, actually). Lincoln and Octavia were braiding his newly clean hair, twisting it away from his face and pinning into place. He couldn’t see anything but their legs, but by now he was familiar with the feeling of braids being put in. Lincoln used to do it for him when they sat side by side in a cell in the box. 

“Linc,” Murphy rasped, his eyes barely open. His head was pouding. He felt sick...so sick. He wasn’t ready to be awake. He wished he could be asleep again and escape the pain which was a perversion to his childlike form. He felt Lincoln wrapping his arms around him and helping him sit up, but black spots were making it hard for him to find his friend’s face. “What’s going on?” 

Clarke got to her feet, pushing past the other two, noting that they had covered his whole head in tight braids keeping his normally messy hair out of his face. She looked over the penitent, pressing her hands against his stitches and checking his bangers. She asked him how he felt and he replied-Not so good. She asked him to explain, and then he passed out. 

Pain is an awful monster that gnaws at your weakness only to feed your strength. 

He didn’t feel like pushing through it any more, and he let unconsciousness push the sting away. Grounders taught hard lessons. 

\--------------------------

“Lexa,” Clarke mumbled, the darkness around them holding them in. It was the middle of the night, and Clarke wasn’t sure what had woken her…”Lexa,” she whispered again, shaking her sleeping girlfriend’s shoulder until she opened her eyes, her ears and eyes already alert. 

“Yes, Clarke?” came Lexa’s reply floating into the darkness. It seemed disembodied because Clarke couldn’t see Lexa’s lips moving. It was too inky black, even as Lexa sat up, lighting a candle and turning to Clarke, concern plainly written on her kind face. “What’s the matter?” 

Her hands rested on Clarke’s shoulders, her eyes sew arching the other girl’s. She was looking for what the matter was, but she only found curiosity. 

“Did you hear that sound?” Clarke asked, tilting her head as a hacking noise rang through the camp again. It sounded like gagging...choking? No one was awake as far as Clarke could tell. Getting to her feet she grabbed a gun, looking over her shoulder checking to see if Lexa would fallow; She was already on her feet and grabbing her weapon. Tiptoeing through the camp she began to check each tent until she got to the last one before the drop ship...the Medical tent. 

\-----------------

Blood was spattered across the floor and all Murphy could see was red. Blood...blood everywhere. He was choking, he thought he was dying. Was he still with the grounders? Was this some new form of torture? Some new way to keep him in pain?

‘Hey mom,’ he thought as more blood spattered across the ground; He wasn’t sure where it was coming from...maybe his mouth? Maybe someplace else...either way, he was pretty sure it was his. ‘You happy now?’


	2. The Promised Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two ways to avoid a painful death for all in the joint camp of the Sky People and Treekru.

Clarke walked into the medical tent, unsure of what she would find. Murphy over a dead body...Murphy dead himself? Her weapon was raised, poised for a fight. She was guarding Lexa as they entered, trying not to make it too obvious that she would fight for the other girl. Lexa wouldn’t like to think that someone wanted to protect her; She could fight her own battles. 

What Clarke saw wasn’t at all what she had been expecting, or at least, what she had been fearing to find. Murphy had fallen off the cot and was choking on what appeared to be his own blood. Clarke sprung into action, dropping her weapon and getting to her knees as she turned Murphy on his side, trying to free up his airways. He coughed up blood, splattering the floor and herself and Lexa. It looked like a war zone in the tent; Things had been knocked over, and blood was everywhere. Murphy looked worst of all, a few of his stitches having birst and his blood turning his face a sticky red. 

Lexa sat down beside Clarke, helping her to support Murphy as the blond got to her feet and began to right the fallen objects about the room, grabbing a wet rag and a standing bowl of water and beginning to clean up. Neither of the girls said a word. They had seen this before… Before the tribes of the Sky People and the Treekru had joined a man by the name of Miller had been taken and given a virus to infect the camp. Murphy hadn’t been with them at the time, so he didn’t seem to be immune, but everyone else was by this time. Sandkru couldn’t have known that though…

“You’re going to be all right,” Clarke whispered to Murphy as she began to clean him up as well, placing the now nearly empty bowl of bloody water beside his head. “It’ll pass soon,” if you don’t die first, she added in her head, not finding it necessary to give him that tidbit of information. She wasn’t sure it mattered anyway-He was pretty out of it. 

Meanwhile Murphy’s head was a mess. Flashes of reality interrupted his mother’s tirade; You aren’t good enough. You’re never good enough. We do you try? Why do they keep you alive? It’s your fault...it’s always your fault. He could see Clarke moving around him through his mother’s ethereal form, but he wasn’t sure which was the vision and which was real. He couldn’t seem to touch either one…

“Clarke, he’s touching you,” Lexa whispered, looking down at Murphy’s hand as he reached for Clarke’s arm. It was a blind, halting movement, but it seemed to have purpose. Clarke let him hold onto her hand as she used the other to clean his face of the blood, instructing Lexa on how to restitch his many wounds. She didn’t stop Murphy from holding her hand, instead squeezing it lightly as the needle went back and forth through his skin. 

Lexa could hardly keep a smile from her lips. Clarke was indeed a very talented healer...she had calmed down Murphy with just her touch. Lexa was proud of Clarke and her abilities. She was the best healer on the ground or in the sky. She bit off the thread with her teeth, looking at her neat handy work, a criss cross of even stitches above Murphy’s eyebrow; Clarke had taught her well. 

Murphy felt something solid in his head, seeing Clarke clearly for a moment before a sharp pain above his eye sent him back into his hallucination. At least he knew which was real now, finding himself whispering aloud.

“You can’t hurt me,” he told the ghost of his mother, his voice nothing bad a thin breath. The ghost didn’t go away, but at least it stopped speaking...he could still hear it’s wringing voice inside his head; You aren’t good enough! 

Tears dripped down Murphy’s nose, and Clarke wiped them away with her thumb. Murphy was messed up...so hurt. While she had been the one to banish him, at the time it had seemed like mercy, now she wasn’t sure. Now Murphy had suffered worse than death. Now it didn’t seem as if he deserved it. Now he was just a confused child. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking away from Murphy’s pained face. She felt Lexa’s hand on her shoulder, and she reached up and squeezed it. “We have to do right by him, okay?” she whispered, turning her gaze up to her girlfriend’s eyes. She had beautiful eyes...they were deep, and understanding, a sense of permanent sadness just behind the iris. 

“We will, Clarke. He’ll be okay. Now, we must worry about Sandkru.”

\-----------------------------

Bellamy lay awake in his tent. He couldn’t sleep. He wondered if he had done right...he had never meant to hurt Murphy. He had been angry. He had wanted to make him hurt but had never applied that to the real world. He had wanted to make him see how much he had hurt him when he turned away from him. 

They had been fine for so long, well over a year before they landed. They had met in secret or in the open. It hadn’t mattered. They would kiss and lay together and do nothing. Neither of them had any big worries, not that they talked about. Their relationship had been one made of appearances and false pretenses. Neither of them had been as put together as they had pretended to be. Neither of them talked about the things that kept them up at night, just the person who they wanted to keep them up at night. 

They had said shallow I love yous, and I need yous. When Bellamy had tried to make it more real Murphy had run away. They weren’t together after that. They weren’t even friends. Murphy had avoided him, and he wouldn’t listen to his apologies. Bellamy had been hurt, he didn’t mean to break them up by asking for more than Murphy was willing to give. All he had asked for was the other boy’s real thoughts. What he really thought about and how he really felt...of course, the truth is an expensive item and he couldn’t pay for it. 

\--------------------------

Octavia woke in the morning beside Lincoln in her cave. Today was the day they would make plans on how to deal with Sandkru. They had obviously sent Murphy as both a warning and a threat, though she hadn’t mentioned the last the night before. She hadn’t wanted to alarm anyone. They were alarmed enough by Murphy’s hurts. Now that they had dealt with those they would have to discuss the rest. 

Sandkru would likely try to invade in due time...custom stated that they should send a messenger with the date of the battle, but Octavia doubted they would conform to such customs. They had always been for thinking outside of the box. They had no understanding of territory unless it was their own, and had no sense of honour, duty, or right. 

Pushing the curtains away from the mouth of the cave she let the morning light flood in, though there wasn’t much. It was a dark day, she noted, rain was on the way. The air was tart and the wind whipped her dark hair around her face. She pulled away from the mouth, letting Lincoln sleep and getting on with her day. 

She let herself into Bellamy’s tent, pulling the blankets away from his curly head. 

“I need to talk to you, Clarke, and Lexa,” she said in her typically stiff way, marching back out of the tent as soon as she was sure that Bellamy was awake enough to have heard and understood her command. It wasn’t just a suggestion. Nothing she ever said was just a suggestion, it was either a strong warning or a command. Suggestion was a relative term with her. 

\--------------------

Clarke and Lexa had stayed with Murphy in the medical tent for the rest of the night, sleeping on the floor beside the cot. Murphy woke to find Clarke’s hand in his own and Lexa looking down at him, her hand on his forehead. Her fingers were cool, her palm warm against his head. Clarke was speaking to Lexa in a hushed tone, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. Her words didn’t make sense...just a bunch of jumbled sounds. His ears were ringing. 

Bellamy came into the tent, looking forward and away from Murphy though he checked on him out of the corner of his eyes. He looked awful…He tried his best not to care, but he wanted to reach out and take Clarke’s place in comforting Murphy. He missed the other boy’s touch. He missed his horse and not-so-subtle tones. He missed his ‘I love yous’ and ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. 

“Octavia needs you in the war room,” Bellamy said, nodding at both woman before turning on his heel and ducking out of the tent. He didn’t want to be there because he wanted so badly to be there. His heart wanted to be there. His head told him to get out and protect his heart. 

He listened to his head...as usual. 

\-----------------------

“Sandkru intend to invade,” Octavia said flatly, her eyes contradicting her tone. They were on fire. She was looking forward to a fight, but at the same time she wanted to protect everyone she had grown to care too much for. “We need to move camp.” 

Lexa had been ready for it. She had grown up around Sandkru ways. She had been trained to stand and fight if they ever invaded, but now that she had been with the Sky People so long and had taken on some of their ways (protect the greater good of the people. More people would be saved by running) she couldn’t stand and fight and watch her loved ones likely die. The sky people hadn’t been trained from birth as the Treekru had, and there weren’t enough Treekru to protect all the sky people. 

Moving camp was the only answer. 

“Clarke, we must listen to Octavia,” Lexa instructed, turning towards Clarke. “It’s the only way. We have to move the camp. Our people will only be saved if we do this.” Lexa was already working things out in her head. They could go towards the promised land of the Sky People of they could make another camp and likely be invaded again anyway. On the other hand, the promised land was through the Sandkru’s land. 

She proposed her ideas to the table, looking between the other two leaders and her head general. She explained the ups and down of both options, saying how when she was a child Sandkru had invaded her village and they had barely held them off. It had been more warriors back then than all the people in their joined camp today. They held no chance, and once Sandkru saw that they would be ruthless. 

“The promised land is the only way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is my update. I hope you like it. Please review :) 
> 
> Thank you for your kind reviews last night. It was really amazing to get right before I went to bed :)

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think, please? Should I continue? Why? 
> 
> Thanks! 
> 
> If you want to send me a prompt just send it to Murderphy.tumblr.com :) I'll try to write them all!


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